


Sharing Is Caring

by justlikethehamptons



Category: Great British Bake Off RPF
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Recipes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2620994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikethehamptons/pseuds/justlikethehamptons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Christmas Special this year isn't quite what Paul bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing Is Caring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sofie_vivianna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofie_vivianna/gifts).



> All recipes mentioned in this story were shamelessly stolen from How to Bake by Paul Hollywood.

“Right. We begin with the dried and glace fruit, along with the candied peel and the chopped almonds. The fruit makes the cake quite substantial, and it’s very good on its own. Of course, with the addition of marzipan and icing, it’s that much better.”

“To be fair, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be improved by a bit of icing,” Sue said, leaning forward to stick her fingers in the nearest bowl and steal a few Sultanas. It got her a chilly look from Paul, but instead of a reprimand, he just drew the bowl a bit further away.

“Next we zest an orange, and once that’s done, we juice the orange and add both zest and juice to our mix.”

He worked while he spoke, dumping fruit and nuts into a large glass mixing bowl, then reaching for a bright orange and attacking it with an oddly shaped tool. Moments later the entire room was filled with the fresh, tropical scent of orange zest, and Sue and Mel exchanged a look that told them they were thinking the same thing.

“Quite appealing so far,” Sue said.

“Certainly. But let’s concentrate,” Mel answered. 

They both turned to find Paul frowning down at his fruit, but they’d known him long enough to see that he was working not to smile. Mostly it was in the way the tips of his ears went pink.

“Once all our fruit is incorporated, we add 70 mil of good quality brandy.” Paul held up a pre-measured portion, letting the light catch it for the benefit of the cameras before he poured it into the bowl.

“Oh ho,” Mel said in time with Sue’s, “A very happy Christmas indeed.”

Paul ignored them both and mixed the ingredients thoroughly, then he covered it in cling film and set it behind him on the counter. “That sits overnight to give the fruit time to soak up the flavors of the zest and brandy.”

“I’ve been known to do a bit of soaking myself,” Sue said, lifting up on her toes to look over Paul’s shoulder. “Got any more brandy?”

“That would certainly make for an interesting Christmas Special,” Mel said, reaching out to pull Sue out of Paul’s reach. “Be a bit of a different audience, though, I’m afraid.”

For a moment they watched Paul pulling cake tins out of nowhere and setting them on the counter, then lining them each with parchment.

“So what makes this a Christmas cake, exactly?” Sue asked. “Other than the obvious holiday spirits, of course.”

“Fruit cake is a long-standing tradition at Christmas,” Paul answered, glancing up from measuring butter and sugar to answer her. “And of course the decoration makes all the difference.”

“Of course,” Sue said, but she wasn’t looking at Paul anymore. Instead she was edging a little further away, toward the bowl of pre-soaked fruit he’d pulled out from under the counter where the rest of his demonstration supplies were hidden. She lifted back the cling film and leaned forward, taking a whiff of brandy-soaked fruit. “Good morning.”

Paul sighed and tugged the bowl out of her reach, then he peeled away the cling film. “Once your butter and sugar are beaten together with your eggs, you add a bit of flour, just to keep the mixture together. Then it’s time to add your fruit.”

He lifted the bowl as he spoke and gently eased the fruit into the cake mix, ignoring the longing looks from Mel and Sue as he stirred the whole mess together. “Once that’s incorporated, we sift the remaining flour over our mixture and fold it in.”

They watched as he carefully poured batter into the prepared cake tins, shaking each one to make sure it was level before he turned and popped them in the oven. “We’ll bake them at 150 degrees for just about three hours. You want to test it with a skewer and make sure it comes out clean. If not, give it another fifteen minutes.”

“So while that’s baking…”

“I reckon you’ve got time for a nap, and maybe a quick trip down the pub,” Sue said, glancing at Mel to ensure she was just as shocked.

Paul smiled at though he’d expected exactly that reaction. “It’s a dense cake; that takes a long time to cook. In the meantime, we’ve got time to make our marzipan.”

“Or pop down to the shop to buy some?” Mel asked hopefully.

Paul nodded, solemn, which told them he was disappointed by the very thought. “You could use prepared marzipan, certainly. But it’s simple to make, and the result is a much more subtle flavor. For this cake I recommend trying your hand.”

“Since you’ve got the time.”

“To try your hand and _then_ pop down the shop when it all goes pear-shaped.”

Paul laughed as he measured sugar into yet another bowl. “Marzipan uses caster sugar as well as icing sugar. Mix those together with 220 grams of finely ground almonds, then we zest another orange and add the zest to the sugar and almonds.

“Finally we add one egg, then we mix until the mixture begins to form a paste. When that happens, we tip it out onto a board dusted with more icing sugar and knead until smooth.”

He worked as he spoke, mixing and kneading until the marzipan reached the consistency he wanted. When he was happy with the result he looked up at Sue and Mel and smiled. “See? Not difficult at all.”

“Says the man who thinks nothing of making a cake that takes days to assemble. I realize the process is condensed for television, but in reality this is a much longer process, isn’t it?”

“Ideally you would let your marzipan sit overnight, and your cakes sit for a day or two before assembling,” he conceded. “It’s not absolutely essential, but the longer a fruit cake is given to develop its flavors, the more intense they’ll be.”

“Didn’t developing go out with the instamatic craze?” Mel asked, and Sue grinned when Paul rolled his eyes.

“Why not give us a snapshot of the whole process, Mr. Hollywood?”

He shook his head, but he stopped fussing with his newly created marzipan and looked up at them. “It’s quite straightforward, really. You need a day to let your fruit soak, then a day to let your cakes sit. Once they’ve been sitting for a day, you make your marzipan and pop it in the fridge overnight. After that your cakes will have been sitting for two days, developing optimal flavor, and your marzipan will be ready to roll out and all that’s left to do is assembly."

“See? That’s all,” Sue said to Mel. “Nothing to it.”

“You realize you’re talking about a three day cake,” Mel said, frowning at Paul.

“Which is why it’s generally only made once a year,” Paul answered, as though that was perfectly reasonable. “It is a Christmas special,” he added, looking past Mel and Sue to the producers.

“Yes, but…” Mel hesitated, glancing first at Sue and then toward the producers before she turned back to Paul. “It’s just…it’s a lot of steps to work out when people are already busy with parties and shopping and all that.”

“But there’s really very little actual work involved,” Paul answered. “With a bit of planning…”

“She’s got a point, mate,” one of the producers said, stepping out from behind the camera where he’d been watching the blocking for the scene. “When you said ‘traditional Christmas fruit cake’, you didn’t mention a three day process.”

“Traditional fruit cake always takes several days,” Paul answered through gritted teeth. “I assumed that was understood.”

“Only by bakers of your superb calibre,” Sue said in what was likely a transparent attempt to distract him with flattery. “Those of us great unwashed sweet eaters never truly appreciate the amount of love and care that goes into feeding us.”

He rolled his eyes again, but his shoulders fell a bit. “I suppose we could do another recipe. Buche de Noel?”

“No one can roll one of those,” Mel said, dropping her voice to soften the blow. “Not in real life, anyway.”

“Fine,” Paul said, bracing his hands on the counter as though he was holding onto his last shreds of patience. “I suppose…I could do my white Christmas cake. It’s my mother-in-law’s recipe. It’s still a fruit cake, but it doesn’t require all the soaking and developing.”

“Perfect,” the producer said, relief clear in his voice. “Just give us the list of what you need and we’ll get set up straight away.”

“Fine,” Paul said again, defeated, as a production assistant hurried forward to write down his new list of ingredients.

“See? Crisis averted,” Mel said when he was done, her tone bracing. “Think of all the home bakers you’ve spared from the agony of ill-timed cakes this holiday season.”

“They’d have had the leftover brandy to console themselves with, though,” Sue said, already craning her neck to watch as the crew broke down the set. “So about that pre-prepared cake…no sense letting it go to waste, right?”

Paul rolled his eyes, but he produced the finished masterpiece from its spot under the counter, lifting the cover to reveal a fluffy white cake with a festive red ribbon circling the bottom.

“Lovely,” Mel said, the word coming out as a funny sort of sigh, and Sue murmured her agreement as they watched Paul carefully undo the ribbon and set it aside. 

By the time he cut into the cake half the crew was gathered around the counter, Mel and Sue right at the center. Paul shook his head and reached for a stack of plates before he began the familiar process of serving them all.


End file.
